In The Kingdom Of The Blind
by scaenica
Summary: One man promises her revenge for the injustice commited to her, a chance to fight for the freedom of her country - the other could give her a home and a family, a place to belong to. Torn between the past and the future, the hardest battle she has to fight is not with an Empire, not with an ancient god, but with her own heart.
1. Chapter 1

_[A/N: This is what I do when I'm stuck on a story - I start to write another one. Inspired by the kinkmeme and a prompt asking for a F!Dragonborn/Ulfric/Balgruuf love triangle, though this will focus more on the side of Dragonborn/Balgruuf. _

_As always, reviews are much appreciated.]_

* * *

**In The Kingdom Of The Blind**

**Chapter 1**

* * *

The first time she sets foot into Dragonsreach, she is eyed with distrust - a stranger in a city under lockdown. While Proventus is still talking to him in his usual jittery tone, the Jarl notices the movement near the door and watches her as she approaches the thrones with long strides. A Nord woman, dressed in worn leather armor, the dirt from the road on her cloak, light reddish hair loosely held back by a loop of linen.

Her posture is that of a warrior, her strides are long and firm.

As she comes closer, he can see three almost parallel scars on her left cheek, like marks from a wild beast. She looks tired but holds herself upright and faces Irileth with her jaw set and shoulders squared when his housecarl stops the visitor on her way to the throne. Irileth asks her to surrender her weapons before she approaches him any further, and the stranger hesitates. After a moment, she reluctantly hands over a dagger and sword that seems unbalanced and as if it has not been crafted to fit her.

Despite her obvious weariness, there is a determined look in her eyes - eyes that have seen blood and war and death, he thinks, though she seems almost too young to have seen these things. When she tells of the dragon, the destruction of Helgen and Riverwood's request for aid, his face darkens. This is very bad news. Yet she is only the messenger, so he thanks her and asks her for her name.

"Eydis, my Jarl", she tells him.

"Eydis", he repeats and leans forward a bit. She meets his eyes without any sign of timidity or hesitation, proud and fearless and he can't help but admire her intrepidity. "And you saw the dragon with your own eyes?"

"Yes." She swallows visibly and stumbles when she tries to put into words what she saw: black scales, red eyes, a terror in the sky. The Nordic God of Destruction... "It was like nothing I have ever seen", she adds helplessly before she falls silent. Then, her tone more fainthearted than before: "I don't think there were many survivors."

He frowns deeply and puts a hand over his eyes for a moment when he leans back. It's worse than he feared, then. He has to send men to Riverwood but that will leave the Hold's capital more vulnerable than it already is. As if a civil war on his doorstep isn't enough to deal with. This is a nightmare... When he drops his hand, he sees her waiting patiently for him to speak again. He wants to ask her how she survived this but despite her effort to steady herself again, he can see she is exhausted and tired from all she has been through. The dark circles under her eyes. The way she shifts every time when it's getting hard for her to stand straight. He can't expect any more from her today.

So he simply thanks her again for delivering the message to him. "I may have questions for you later, so I must ask you stay in the city for now, if you may." When she stiffens and looks ready to protest, he adds as gently as he can: "I do not wish to hinder your journey but you must understand how important this is. Any information can be crucial to defeat this… creature. But for now, you should rest. You traveled a long way to come here."

Her shoulders drop. Even if she doesn't approve, he seems to have allayed her resistance. "Thank you, my Jarl", she says quietly. "I will be at the inn, then, if you have need for me."

He tells her he will send for her, and while his advisors discuss this turn of events heatedly, he watches as she carefully collects her weapons and takes her leave, with no hesitation and not a single look back. And he can't help but wonder where she came from before she found herself in the burning ruins of Helgen, and where she will go from here.


	2. Chapter 2

_[A/N: Thank you all so much for your initial reviews and follows! Glad to know I'm not the only one who adores Balgruuf. Isn't he the best Jarl ever? :3  
I wasn't sure about using dialogue from the game but I went with it anyway. Hope it's not too unimaginative? At least the next chapters will be more original… hopefully.  
Anyway, I hope you enjoy the read!]_

* * *

**In The Kingdom Of The Blind **

**Chapter 2**

* * *

"And what's so important about this stone?" Eydis waits patiently while the mage and his strange associate are bending down over the artifact she has brought from Bleak Falls Barrow, and talk in excited whispers. She shifts uncomfortably; the steel armor the Jarl has provided her with fits well enough but not quite perfectly. She'll have a blacksmith see to that as soon as she gets her reward. She misses her own iron armor. The material might have been of less quality but she had it made to measure and it fitted perfectly. She wonders what the Imperials have done with her belongings. The damn bastards took everything, armor, weapons, supplies and the little coin she had. She doesn't own anything now except for the things Ralof and his family have given to her so generously. She has to remember to pay them back as soon as she can.

The mage shoots her an annoyed glance at this disturbance. "This is not a simple stone. The inscription could be crucial to my research. I believe", he says to the hooded woman next to him, "you employers will be most satisfied." The woman nods, though she doesn't look at Farengar, but instead eyes Eydis with unmistakable distrust.

She doesn't mind. She is used to being looked at with suspicion or disdain or sometimes even repugnance. The life of a sellsword isn't easy but it's a life she chose for herself and as long as she gets paid, she doesn't care much about what people think of her. Someone has to do the dirty work, after all. Delving into ancient tombs. Finding lost relatives. Teaching someone a lesson. Bashing heads together. It's not a glorious life but at least it's honest work and she usually is getting by just fine.

When she was a girl, she dreamt about joining the Legion, like her father. Now she's prisoner on the run and has to look over her shoulder for Imperial patrols. Funny how things turn out.

"So", she tries again, " about my reward…-"

"You will have to see the Jarl about that." The mage waves her of impatiently. "Or his steward, Avenicci. I have no time for such trivial things."

It's her turn to look annoyed now but she stays silent, simply turns and leaves , with the uncomfortable feeling of the other woman's gazing eyes on her back.

She finds the Jarl upstairs, bent over a map on the table. She finds it strange to approach him; she has never dealt with nobility before. Alas, he has been nothing but kind to her, so much indeed that she feels guilty for not telling him the full truth about Helgen. Whiterun Hold is Imperial territory, after all. She really did not want to get arrested again but she also hopes his dealings with her will not redound upon him somehow.

He noticed her and waves her nearer. "Did you find what Farengar was looking for?"

"I did. He seemed quite excited."

The Jarl chuckles but his smile his weary and she thinks that she wouldn't want to trade with him. The province at the brink of war, and now he has to defend his city against a dragon, of all things…

"Tell me - what else did you encounter up there?" He flattens the corner of the map, still not taking his eyes of her. It unnerves her a little. He has kind eyes, though. An interesting shape of blue. She almost laughs at herself for noticing this. "It is a tomb of our ancestors, no?"

"It is. More of a temple, though, I think. Carved really deep into the ground and the tunnels are more outspread than I thought- I came out on the other side of the mountain range, actually. Other than that", she shrugs and tries to keep from her mind the thought of the half-circled wall and the terrifying light emanating from it, "lots of draugr."

"A temple, you say", he mumbles with keen interest, finally turning his eyes away from her to look back down to the map. "And do you think-" The conversation is disturbed abruptly when his housecarl storms up the stairs. They both turn simultaneously, startled at the sudden interruption; and she is sure she looks just as horrified at the news from the watchtower as the Jarl does. She automatically straightens herself when he gives orders, without hesitation, rigorously. Then he turns back to her. "I'm afraid there's no time to stand on ceremony…-"

"Don't bother", she interrupts him, with a grim smile on her lips. If this is the same dragon that attacked Helgen, she will gladly join the fight and bring the beast down. If it is not, all the same. She remembers very vividly the houses ablaze like torches, the smoke filling her lungs, the smell of burned flesh… Her fingers close tightly around the hilt of her sword. She can't allow the same fate to happen to Whiterun. "I'll go with them."

He studies her for a moment, and she returns his gaze with steely determination until he dismisses her with his last instructions.

When she leaves, the flames in her eyes burn as bright as a dragon's fire.

* * *

The Greybeard's summoning breaks the oppressing, almost eerie silence that lies over the city. _Dovahkiin_. It is hard to believe but impossible to deny, they have all heard it. And yet he doesn't even begin to understand what it truly means until she comes back and explains to him what has happened down at the watchtower. Her voice is hesitant and she struggles to find the right words sometimes because something like this cannot be described by mere words, but when she has finished her report of the events, occasionally interrupted by comments from his housecarl or brother, she stands upright and folds her hands behind her back. Like a soldier reporting for duty but with an almost defiant look on her face. As if she challenges him to say something to contradict her.

He doesn't. It is impossible to believe and yet he does not doubt a word she said. He has heard the Greybeards himself. _Dovahkiin._ He finds it astonishing, the sobriety with which she accepts all of this. He can't tell if this excites or frightens her. Maybe a bit of both, he thinks. When Proventus voices his objections about this "Nord nonsense", she tenses and frowns but says nothing.

He commands them all to leave except for her and rises to look down at her, astonished and pondering. There is dried blood on her face and neck, rust brown stains in striking contrast to pale skin. When she wipes away the sweat on her face with the back of her hand, she smudges a streak of dirt and ash over her forehead. The dark circles under her eyes tell him she hasn't slept much last night and yet there is light in her eyes that shines brighter than the sun itself. Only when those eyes narrow warily, he realizes he has been staring at her.

He waves Fianna to him, orders her to bring his guest upstairs.

"It's not necessary, I have a room in the-"

"I insist. We still need to talk about this but you should rest first."

He watches her leave, slumps back to the throne, deep in thought.

_Dovahkiin. _

What a strange turn of events.

When she comes back, without her armor, dressed in fresh clothes, red hair still damp from the bath, he invites her to sit and share dinner with him. She complies, however hesitantly, but mostly picks at her food. They eat mostly in silence, occasionally interrupted by a question from her and he tells her what he knows about the Voice. When she asks him what the Greybeards might want with her, he smiles.

"You'll have to ask them yourself, I'm afraid." Though it has been a long time since he walked the steps, he still remembers the temple high up there, towering over the world, clinging to the mountain as if it was melded into the rock. "I envy you, to climb the seven thousand steps… I made the pilgrimage once, a long time ago."

"I know people make the trip up there." She tears a piece of bread to bits betweens her fingers, absentmindedly, without really looking at it. Under the harsh appearance, he thinks, lies a very sensitive young woman. Of course, a revelation like this must be overwhelming. "I'm just… not sure about this."

"Whatever was revealed within you today, the Greybeards must have heard it." _Dovahkiin_. _Dragonborn._ This hasn't happened since Tiber Septim himself was summoned. And now to her, a woman, a sellsword without much of a name. But the Greybeards pay no mind to names and titles. "It's a tremendous honor."

Her shoulders drop and she utters her sigh, resigning to her fate. "I know."

They fall silent again. It's not uncomfortable and though he is unused to company apart from his daily business in court, he finds he enjoys her presence. When she suddenly puts the bread back on her plate and clears her throat, he looks up surprised, even more so when she speaks again. "There's still something I need to tell you… about Helgen."

His mood darkens while he listens to her reluctantly explaining what truly happened, yet he finds the thought of her being an Imperial prisoner much less worrying than that of the fate the Legion had planned for her. Had they known who - _what_ - she is, would they done the same?

"No need to worry", he assures her. "It is none of my business who the Imperials want to execute." However, his mood darkens very quickly when she tells him of the reason for her sentence - and of Jarl Ulfric's involvement. It should be no surprise to him that the Stormcloak's leader is somehow mixed up in this. He wonders if the rebellious Jarl has something to do with the dragon attack. That doesn't seem likely, though. Not even the great Bear of Windhelm could possess such a power, could he?

"So you are a Stormcloak?" He hopes his loathing does not show too much in his voice. Judging from the way she smirks, he didn't do well.

In reverse, he notices the way she hesitates just for a small moment, and avoids his eyes, busying herself with angling for bottle of mead. "I work for whichever side pays better." He can't decide if this is cynical or simply pragmatic. With a cracked smile, she raises her bottle to him. "Usually not for people who try to cut my head off, though."

"Understandable."

When she shows no inclination to pursue the subject, and he doesn't press her to it - no matter what his own thoughts are, as long as she doesn't bring the war to his hold, it's none of his business who she favors.

"While we are on the subject, he carries on the conversation, "we still haven't discussed payment." She clears her throat again and sits up a bit straighter. Talking about business, something she knows, obviously makes her more comfortable. "I shall give you whatever you desire as a reward", he continues. "However, in addition to this, there is something I would like to offer you."

She looks up, stares at him, puzzled for a moment, and then with a doubtful and suspicious look on her face. A small smile tugs on her lips. It seems a bit unpracticed, almost out of place. He imagines not many people have been kind to her in the past and she has had not many reasons to smile. But then again, none of them have these days.

"Even after what I just told you?"

"Even after what you just told me. You have done a great service for me and my city, Eydis shield-maiden. If you accept, then by my right as Jarl, I shall name you Thane of Whiterun. It's the greatest honor that's within my power to grant."

She has gone still and silent during his speech, only continues to gaze at him, the smile has dropped from her face as quickly as it came. It surprises him that she is so much taken aback by his offer. With her skill, she should be known and highly esteemed by the Jarls in all holds. However, glory is not something she is used to, and somehow, the fact that this baffles her so much, that she has not expected payment but not fame - it makes him think even more highly of her.

"Thane?", she finally blurts out. "Me?"

"Do you accept?"

When she regains her composure, seemingly a bit embarrassed by her outburst, she does. It's rather unceremoniously but that's fine with him, and it suits her. And then, there is the smile again, small and maybe even a bit nervous, and it still lights up the room more than any candlelight and hearth fire ever could.

She sets out the next morning, leaves a disappointed Lydia in Dragonsreach to join the defenses of the city the black dragon from Helgen is seen again. It's no surprise to him; while he would feel better to know she doesn't have to make the journey to High Hrothgar on her own, she does seem like someone who would travel alone. A lone wolf. She doesn't rely on anyone, and she doesn't need to. She leaves with little words of goodbye and a small, almost helpless smile, and while he watches her leaves, he thinks that even though he gave a place in his court and his city, only time can tell if will ever see her again.


	3. Chapter 3

**In The Kingdom Of The Blind**

**Chapter 3**

In the months that follow her first encounter with a dragon, Eydis walks up the seven thousand steps to High Hrothgar, delves into deep ancient ruins and dark caves, fights undead and giants and dragons. But no matter how far she ventures, every few weeks or so, her journey takes her back to Whiterun. At first, she tells herself it is because of her duty as Thane but she can't deny that the title is merely honorary and she isn't required to return to the city at all.

She does anyway. Whiterun becomes the closest she's had to a home in more than ten years, and the Jarl the closest to a friend in… actually, she can't remember ever being so close to anyone. He asks her to tell him about her travels, and she does, every little detail - even those she should probably keep to herself. When she describes how she had to fight her way out of the Thalmor Embassy, he frowns and tells her to be careful who she makes an enemy of.

The first time she comes back to the city to have her armor repaired, he invites her to the palace and asks her about her journey, and then her visits become regular, almost like a ritual, something to look forward to. It's strange to have someone to pour out her heart to, and these days even stranger to have someone who doesn't ask anything from her. She is used to people turning to her for assistance when they need someone to bash heads together but know she's not just some common sellsword anymore. Things used to be so simple - she gets the job done and gets paid, and in the end, it's not her problem but her employer's. Now, the weight of the world rests on her shoulders and, because of who she is, everyone wants to put their little package of problems on top of it.

He never asks her to run an errand or deal with some problem in the hold or do him a favor, even though for him, she would do it gladly. All he does is listen and sometimes offer his advice when she's in need of it. On most nights, it's long past midnight when she walks back down to the Bannered Mare. He asks her about the places she has been and the people she has met, and tells her about the occurrences that happened in the city while she was gone. He makes her laugh and she takes every moment of it with her when she leaves Whiterun again.

Today, however, he seems absent-minded and more stricken with sorrow than usual. They sit at the table in the main hall, beside the hearthfire, and share a late dinner. She has been trying all night to cheer him up with the story about that weird man in a jester's costume she encountered, but now she finally gives and decides it's no use, she might as well ask him what's going on.

"Is something wrong?"

"It's nothing", he grumbles but stares over her shoulder into the hearthfire instead of looking at her. "Please, go on."

"You have no idea what was just talking about, do you?" She chuckles at the guilty look on his face, then her voice grows soft. "And you're not a good liar. I leave all my sorrows with you - the least I can do is listen to some of yours. Tell me what's troubling you."

When he tells her about his youngest son's recent behavior, she frowns. She has stumbled over Nelkir a few times, and he always acted just as high-and-mighty towards her as his siblings but she has gotten the impression that for the most part, he is just trying to imitate his older brother and doesn't really mean anything by it.

"Have you talked to him about it?", she asks between to bites of cheese.

"I tried. He won't say a word to me." He runs a hand over his face and utters a heavy sigh, and she feels pity for him. It's one thing he has to worry about the hold, but his own children... this is something completely different. So much closer to his heart. For once, she thanks the Divines that she doesn't have a family - not a functioning one, at least. All she has to worry about and care for is herself; there's no one close to her she could possibly endanger with her affairs, no one someone could use to get to her, no one to break her heart. It's lonely most of the time but she is doing a good job telling herself that it's better this way.

"I have no idea what to do with him", Balgruuf admits. "The boy has always been… quiet. Troubled, even. But not like this."

"Do you want me to talk to him?"

He gives her one of those warm smiles that sends a fluttering feeling through her stomach, only today it's more tired than usual. "You have enough to deal with already. You shouldn't worry about this as well."

"Better leave it to me how much I want to deal with." His concern is nice, though. Not many people stop to ask about her well-being, especially not these days, now that she is bound to save the world. Him, though, she truly wants to help, of her own accord, because these are his children and she knows how much he loves them. "I'll talk to him", she decides, "who knows, maybe I can draw out the truth from him." When she was the boy's age, there were lots of things she would never tell her Ma.

* * *

The next morning, she finds the boy in the kitchen. When she pulls up a chair and tells him to sit down, he almost snarls at her. "I don't listen to peasants."

"Shut it", she says and her harsh tone surprises him enough to fall silent even though he glares at her angrily. "You can try that with your servants but not with me. I make short shrift of little boys like you. Now sit."

The threat seems to work. Nelkir continues to glower at her but limbs onto the chair without another word, crosses his arms and waits silently. Eydis leans against the table, facing the boy, and watches him thoughtfully. He looks tense, she thinks, like a wounded animal, cornered and ready to lash out at any moment. His eyes are wary, and there's something dark there, too, something… predatory that almost frightens her seeing it in a child.

"Your father sent me to talk to you."

She has expected the child to be tight-lipped and withdrawn or shy or defiant. Instead, she almost winces when he spits at her, eyes dark, face distorted in anger: "One day, I'll tear his face apart so he can leave me alone!"

"This is your father you're talking about", she says as calmly as possible while she has to resist the urge to grab the boy and shake him. "Show some respect." Balgruuf hasn't lied, his son really is violent-tempered.

"My father", suddenly the anger is gone, he lowers his voice and a smile plays around the corner of his mouth. "Children don't smile that way, she thinks, even more bewildered by this than she was by his outburst. Something's wrong with him. "My father doesn't know anything about me. But I know about him. And about the war. More than he might think."

She cocks an eyebrow and watches the boy sternly, never taking his eyes of him. He couldn't harm her, not even if she was unarmed, but something about him warns her to be on her guard. The war, however… That's certainly new, and his father hasn't mentioned anything about that, either. "And what is it you know, boy?"

"I know he still worships Talos." His smug smile deepens when he sees the surprise that shows on her face, despite her efforts to hide it. "I know he hates the Thalmor almost as much as the Stormcloaks do."

That is indeed news to her… She wonders why he has never mentioned it to her, not even made a vague suggestion. Maybe he doesn't trust her as much as she though he did. Or maybe, she ponders, it has been her who hasn't been exactly secretive about which side of the war she favors. Maybe he didn't want to encourage her even more; she knows how hard he has to fight for Whiterun's neutrality, and if his Thane was to fight for either side, it would make this talk much more difficult.

She can't get involved. Not officially. For his sake, she has to stay out of this mess, no matter how much she itches to make the journey to Windhelm.

Nelkir interrupts her thoughts. "That he worries about being chased from Whiterun", he adds and, for once, his voice shakes a bit. Maybe because the thought of this is much more real to him than a war he doesn't understand - being forced to leave his home. Frowning, she shakes her head. "No one's going to do something like that." Until now, at least, neither the Imperials nor Jarl Ulfric dared to question or challenge him. As for what the future brings… She has no idea how long the brittle peace in Whiterun will last, and her only hope is that when the time comes, Balgruuf will make the right choice.

For now, though, she has other things to worry about. Because the boy before her suddenly trembles in his chair and lowers his gaze. . "I know that he… that I'm…" When he falls silent, staring at the floor, she tilts her head to the side. "What about you?"

"That I don't have the same mother as my brother and sister", he suddenly blurts out. Baffled, she shakes head. That's hard to believe… not impossible of course, she thinks and tries to ignore the sting of jealousy that comes with the thought.

"How do you know all of this, boy?"

He tells her about the locked door down in the cellar. About the Whispering Lady. The secrets she tells him. And Eydis begins to realize her instincts have not deceived her - he is not just a surly child- Someone or something has seized hold of his mind. "You can't go down there anymore", she tells him. "Stay away from the door."

"You can't tell me what to do!", Nelkir snaps and she doesn't bother to argue with him - no matter what she says, he won't listen to her, no if the Whispering Lady puts something else into his head. She has to get rid of whatever is behind that door.

* * *

Mephala's voice rings in her head. Her mouth goes dry and she clenches her sweaty hands to fists while she listens to the Daedra's sweet, sweet blandishments. _The Lady of Whispers_. She should have known. She should have been able to read the signs, she has encountered Daedric Princes before. The question is why one of them has infested the cellar of Dragonsreach.

When she asks Balgruuf for the key, he vehemently refuses at first and explains that the room has not been unlocked for hundreds of years, and that he has inherited the key and the sentinel of the door along with his other duties as Jarl. Then he turns pale when she tell him what she found out, and she believes him when he says he had no idea what is stored away down there.

She wonders if this is the first time Mephala has tried to charm someone into stealing the key. And she can't deny that she's curious what awaits her behind that door. Is it her own curiosity, or has she already fallen under the Daedra's influence as well?

What she finds, is a sword, as sharp as if it has seen a grindstone just yesterday. She carefully picks up the weapon, holds it with awe, tests its balance – and then drops it back down on the table when she realizes what she is doing.

The Daedric Princes loves their little toys they can use to charm their draw unwary mortals with. The small leather-bound booklet on the table proves her suspicion right. _'All who wield it end up with the crazed eyes of those wild men who roam the hills chattering with rabbits.'_

She goes to fetch a blanket, carefully wraps up the sword before she carries it upstairs to show the Jarl what she found. When she tells him she wants Nelkir to hear this, too, he scowls at her. "Absolutely not.

"But a smart one", she says calmly, "Too smart for his own good, maybe. I promise you this will not harm him." When he still looks at her with doubt, she sighs. "What _will,_ however, is not knowing what has been happening to him. He needs to understand."

Balgruuf studies the Ebony Blade on the table between them. "And you are absolutely sure…"

"Yes. No harm will come to your son. Trust me."

When Nelkir walks up the stairs and over to them, he tries to look indifferent but there's no denying the fear on his face. Does he think she told his father what the boy told her and now he will be punished? She smiles gently even though she doesn't exactly feel like it, and tries to sound as reassuring as possible. "C'mere, boy."

When he steps closer, his eyes fall on the Ebony Blade and grow wide. Is it possible he knows what kind of artifact this is? Does Mephala still talk to him, even know? Has she told him already of the weapon that waited behind the locked door? Maybe her eyes betray her but the child looks… greedy for a moment before he is able to hide his emotions again. A quick glance to Balgruuf shows her he has seen this, too.

"Do you know what the Daedric Princes are?"

Nelkir looks up to her with suspicion, then gives a quick nod.

"What you heard down there – the Whispering Lady – that was Mephala", she explains calmly. "She's called the Webspinner, and she is very, very dangerous. Do you know why?"

This time, the boy shakes his head, eyes again fixed to the blade on the table as if hypnotized by it. "Nelkir", she says quietly and resists the urge to put the fabric over the sword again. Instead, she waits until he finally looks up to meet her gaze. The darkness is still there in his eyes but so is something else. She doesn't what to call it, a spark maybe. Maybe it's curiosity, she thinks. "Do you know what makes the Daedra different from the Divines?"

"Daedra are evil", he mumbles. "Divines aren't. Right?"

"Aye. But not all of the Daedra are completely evil." She still keeps Dawnbreaker with her, after all, even though she normally doesn't use it. "The most important difference is that the Divines are kind to us while Daedra only _use_ us. With trickery and deceit. Sometimes even without our knowledge. That's what Mephala - the Whispering Lady - does, too. Those thoughts you are having…" The boy's eyes flicker over to his father, who stands quietly at the side, and then drop to the floor again.

"Those thoughts are not your own. They seem that way. They seem quite real, I know that. But they are not. They've been… planted there, in your head."

"By the Whispering Lady." It's not a question. She was right, the boy is smart.

"Aye. By the Whispering Lady. That is what she does, boy. Plant seeds in our heads that poison us and those around us."

"Why?" The question comes out quick and almost sharp, and in the next moment, he looks a bit sheepish as if he is embarrassed of his own curiosity. He shouldn't be, she muses thoughtfully. Maybe he has the wrong teachers. He should be encouraged in his thirst for knowledge.

"I don't know. Some Daedra Lords have… a theme. An interest. Hircine, for example, is lord of the hunt. Azura is the Prince of dusk and Dawn. Mephala, however…" She has folded her hands behind her back and watches the child closely while she speaks. He seems to listen very carefully, even though he still refuses to look her in the eye. "I don't know much about her", she continues. "No one does. I think, for the most part, she just likes to have fun playing with us mortals. Playing us off against each other. Whispering secrets. Stirring up hared, just to see what we are going to do. It's a game to her. But that doesn't mean we have to let them." She makes a small pause during which the boy shifts uncomfortably. "Do you understand that?"

He slowly nods and looks up to observe the sword again. His mouth opens and closes again, as if he's debating if he should say something, then he decides against it and stays silent. He doesn't look as scared and tense as before, though.

"Good. Now, I need to talk to your father for a while."

"Go find your siblings, son." Balgruuf has been very quiet the whole time and she is glad his voice sounds calm and reassuring now. Nelkir hesitates but finally obeys and leaves for the stairs with one last look of amazement towards the blade. When he is gone, his father collapses into a chair and runs his hands over his face. "I don't believe this."

"You didn't know you were sitting on a Daedric artifact?" Eydis has picked up the journal again and browses through it. While a Jarl's palace seems a strange place to keep the blade, with so many people around, it could have been the right choice. There are few places as heavily guarded as Dragonsreach and you wouldn't want to fall this weapon into the wrong hands.

"I had no idea", he admits. "And I don't think my father knew, either, even though it was him who gave me the key. All I was told was the door was never to be opened." He sighs heavily and leans back. "It seems now I know the reason why."

She puts down the journal to carefully wrap the blanket around the Ebony Blade again. "Well, it can't stay here. Even if it weren't for the children – too many people walk in and out of here, and every lock can be picked."

The Jarl nods, frowning while he watches her, and visibly relaxes once the cloth covers the blade again. "Do you know where we can keep it instead?"

She hesitates and debates her possibilities. There are some places much safer than Dragonsreach where the artifact can stay for a while, though none of them seems like an ideal solution. "I'd throw it into the deepest ocean", she finally says, "but someone could still fish it out of there. I think it's best I store it away safely for a while until we learn how to destroy it." The journal says it's not possible, the blade can't be melted, but there must be some way to take away its power.

"Will he be alright?"

She glances up to find Balgruuf staring into the distance, shoulders slumped, his face tired and weary. He looks ten years older, she thinks and even though she already has enough burdens to carry, she wants to take on his as well, if only to see him smile again. "Will my son be alright?", he repeats, with edge to his voice.

When she puts a hand on his shoulder, he finally meets her eyes, and he looks so desperate that for a moment, she considers lying to him, telling him everything will be fine. But she can't be sure of that, and she has to be honest with him. "I don't know", she admits quietly and feels him tense under her hand. "Not for sure, anyway. But I think that, over time, the Prince's influence will… fade. Maybe he won't be exactly the same as he was before but… he'll be able to handle it. He's a smart boy."

When he puts a hand over hers, her knees are going weak and she swallows, hoping he doesn't notice anything. "Thank you", he mumbles and they stay that way for a while, him gazing into the distance, her studying his face, until she gently pulls away before she does something stupid.

She tries to cover the awkward silence by busing herself with carefully binding up the Ebony Blade in the fabric. After a while, she clears her throat uncomfortably. "Can I ask you something?"

"Of course. Anything."

While she ties a knot with the string around the bundle, she weighs her words carefully. This is none of her business, really, and she even isn't sure he will give her a straight answer - there is a reason he keeps this a well-hidden secret. And while he must know it would be safe with her, it would probably be wiser for him not to talk about it at all. But if she doesn't at least ask, this won't stop nagging at her.

"Nelkir told me that you loathe the Thalmor", she finally says, "as much as the Stormcloaks do. And that you still worship Talos. Is that true?" When he stills and frowns at her, suddenly on guard, and that is answer enough for her.

They stare at each other for a moment before he regains his composure. "All I can I say", he answers slowly and measured, "is that I worship all Divines."

"You're such a bloody diplomat." She can't help but chuckle despite the many questions she still has about this - why he hasn't joined the war on either side, for example. She will ask him those questions but right now, she has more important things to do. And somehow, the answer has given her already feels satisfying.

When she has wrapped up the Daedric blade safely, she picks up the journal and stuffs it into her pocket, ready to leave. The sooner she gets the artifact away from him and especially from the children, the better, and the journey she has to make in order to store the blade safely is long. "One last thing", she frowns and bites her lip, unsure if she should bring it up at all. "When I talked to your son, he also said he doesn't have the same mother as his siblings." She almost blurts it out while a blush creeps over her cheeks. She is really overstepping a line here. "Is that true as well?"

He stares at her completely taken aback for a moment, his face unreadable, before he slowly shakes his head. "No. No, that is not true at all."

"Well, good." She can't tell if he is telling the truth, and with the thought of the distraught and desperate look on Nelkir's face, she hopes he will at least be able to convince his son. "Maybe you should tell that to him as well."

"I will", he says quietly, and gives her a smile despite the sadness in his voice. "I can not thank you enough for what you have done, Eydis. I will wait for your return."

She swallows, tries to ignore the light, fluttering sensation rising in her stomach again, and turns away before he can see how breathless his smile has left her.

"I shall not take too long, then."

* * *

The courier catches up with her shortly before she reaches Ivarstedt. It doesn't surprise her he found her; they always do somehow, even in the strangest places. She waits, annoyed, while the man recovers his breath. When he has finally rummaged through his bad and found the piece of parchment intended for her, she snaps it out of his hand. He shots her an indignant glance, affronted by her impatience. "An important message for you", he patters with demonstrative ostentation, "Your hands only."

If it is another invitation from Siddgeir, she might have to teach that insufferable boy a lesson in humility. She has wasted enough time - she needs to go to High Hrothgar and has no time for distractions anymore. "What's it about this time?", she grumbles while she breaks the seal. "Some cave that needs clearing out? Another lost trinket?"

The courier gives her contemptuous look, as if she had somehow offended him and his whole profession. "Not exactly." He wipes the sweat from his forehead and clears his throat, as if he was about to give a speech. And in a way, he is.

"The Jarl of Windhelm requests your presence."


	4. Chapter 4

**In The Kingdom Of The Blind**

**Chapter 4**

* * *

She has been to Windhelm before more than once and is still not sure whether she likes the city or not. The high walls and narrow streets, full of nooks and crannies, are not exactly placid but give her a feeling of safety, sheltered from the dangers of the wild. On her first visit she has talked to the Dunmer bard in Candlehearth Hall for a bit and then almost broke Rolff Stonefists's nose when he just wouldn't leave them alone. She's been around enough to know how many people have cut and dried opinions of the elves – and to know that those prejudices are exactly that and nothing more. She's no _elf lover, _as Rolff has called it, she simply doesn't care that much how someone looks on the inside. Both men and mer have tried to stab her in the back and both men and mer have treated her with kindness and even saved her life. They're not that different as one likes to believe.

_We all bleed when we die._

Many people in Windhelm seemed to think differently and this is why staying here never feels comfortable. This time, however, she is too nervous to think much about it, even though she doesn't want to admit it. It's ridiculous, really; she has faced all kinds of beasts and monsters in battle with no fear, but the thought of meeting one man makes her anxious. She wonders if the Jarl will remember her. In the midst of Alduin's attack on Helgen, they have never exchanged a word but she remembers the ride in the cart very clearly.

Sometimes she wonders where she would be now had she not stumbled into the Imperial ambush that day. What was supposed to be a simple hunting trip has changed her life more than she had thought possible. Would she ever have found out she was Dragonborn? Maybe it was supposed to be. The Gods move in mysterious ways. Best not to question them.

The Jarl does indeed remember her, as she finds out when she finally stands before him. When he realizes they have met in Helgen, something flashes in his eyes. "Destined for the chopping block if I'm not mistaken." Maybe, she thinks, he even looks… content. Of course, if she already has a reason to hate the Empire – and trying to cut off her head seems like a good enough reason – he must believe it will be much easier to convince her to aid him in the war. Because he has not called her here for a courtesy visit, that much is certain. Maybe answering his summons was a mistake after all...

"I had committed no crime that I know of", she states, embarrassed when he only chuckles in a low voice. Although the sound is more bitter than mirthful, she can't help but feel she is giving him just what he wants.

"It seems we all are branded villains these days", he muses with half a smile. "You understand why I invited you here, then?"

"You want me to fight for you."

She curses herself that he can read her so easily – and that she is so eager to answer him. After weeks and months of travelling from city to city, dinners with Jarls and offers of thaneship and property, she is long past feeling intimidated when she talks to nobles. And yet, there's something about him that makes her feel almost sheepish. Maybe it's the way he talks, about duty and honor, and even though a part of her knows it's just words and nothing more, she can't help but feel affected, she can't help but believe every word he says.

Maybe it's the way he looks at her, his eyes hard and unforgiving at the same time almost kind, with a grim sense of understanding - as if he knows exactly that she just couldn't resist coming her, no matter how unreasonable it seemed.

"Tell me, Eydis shield-maiden, do you not wish to be free from their oppression? Do you want to others to suffer the same wrongs that were done to you?"

She flinches, unintentionally. He's talking about Helgen, of course. But there's more, so much more.

She has read the dossier the Thalmor had of him. She knows what he has done – and what has been done to him. She agrees with what he calls for, what he tries to achieve; Skyrim may have been part of the Empire once, but these days are past and what use is it to cling to an Empire that is slowly dying before their eyes? But she also knows it's not just honor and duty that drive him. However noble his cause his – there's the desire for revenge, too, and that she understands even better. That, they have in common.

She remembers her confusion when they told her, a little thing of only seven winters, that her Da would not come home. She remembers her father's brother who did everything he could to the family together. She remembers her mother who never smiled again.

She remembers her father who died defending an Empire that spat on his grave by signing that damned concordat.

She has grown up with the knowledge of this betrayal and she can neither forget nor forgive.

But she hates how the Jarl can see right through her. And she hates herself for letting him.

"What I want, doesn't matter", she says, maybe a bit louder than necessary. It's not a 'no' and they both now that. "My duties lie elsewhere, Jarl Ulfric." She can't use any… distractions.

And the thought of how disappointed Balgruuf would be with her if she chose to side with the Stormcloaks makes her feel an uncomfortable sting of guilt.

It should make the decision to turn Ulfric down rather simple. And yet she feels torn and has to force herself to turn around and walk away from him. On her way to the door, she hears his voice behind her, quiet and almost thoughtful.

"You know you will be back soon, Eydis."

Eydis huffs dismissively, without turning around. "I doubt that."

No. She doesn't.

* * *

When she finally comes back to Whiterun after weeks on the road, she rents a room in the Bannered Mare for once instead of climbing the stairs to Dragonsreach. Her encounter with Alduin, high above the clouds in top of the Throat of the World, has weakened her more than she wants to admit. She sleeps for almost a whole day and spends another morning cleaning her weapons and armor until she has to admit to herself that what she does is putting off her meeting with the Jarl. Not because she doesn't want to see him – she does, more than would be reasonable – but she is not sure if she will be able to explain to him what has happened, to put into words what she has done and what she will have to do.

A dragon.

Balgruuf won't like this at all but what choice does she have?

When she finally brings herself to walk up to the palace, the Jarl isn't in the throne room but she spots Nelkir sitting at the long table. As she strolls further into the hall, he notices her and watches her as she comes closer. His eyes are wary but he seems calmer than when she has last seen him. More at ease, somehow. That's a good sign, at least, that the boy will be alright. "You're back", he stays, in a matter-of-fact manner.

"I am." Eydis opens the bag she is carrying with her. "I have something for you." Nelkir carefully watches her every move and his eyes widen in excitement at her announcement.

"What is it?"

"I thought you might find this interesting", she says and puts the heavy leather-bound book on the table before him. "But don't tell your father I gave this to you. It normally isn't appropriate for little boys to read."

She watches with a smile as Nelkir studies the worn cover, open the book with utmost care - she likes that he seems to appreciate the value of it - and reads the title, a bit slow but without stumbling over the words: "Aedra and Daedra." He looks up to her again, with an expression between confusion and agitation. "You're giving this to me?"

"I am giving this to you", she confirms. "It's a gift. Read it carefully and when you're done you can tell me what you think of it. And then I'll have a few other books you might enjoy."

He doesn't smile but with the way his eyes light up, she knows she's gotten the right impression of him. The boy is too clever for his own good and probably smarter than all of his teachers put together. He doesn't need someone to explain the world to him. No, he needs someone to teach him how to understand. And while she is definitively not the right one for this task - she is neither a scholar nor a particularly patient teacher - it's a start at least.

The boy nods, apparently satisfied with this agreement, and gingerly closes the book again. He opens his mouth as if to speak, hesitates, closes it again, looks down on the table and she wants to ask what is going through his mind when he finally blurts out: "Is it true that you can kill dragons with your _voice_?"

Eydis tries not to laugh at his excitement but it's just too sweet. Not that she doesn't get enough praise, on the contrary - most times she'd rather have people leave her in peace. But coming from this child, it's worth more than she could ever deserve. "Yes, I can do that."

"I don't believe you." A bright yet sharp voice startles them, Dragonborn and child both turn around to see the Jarl's daughter standing in the doorway to the kitchen. "Prove it", the girl demands, in a tone that leaves no doubt she is used to being obeyed.

From any other tot, Eydis would take none of that but these are Balgruuf's children and since she knows by now how lonely the palace can be, despite all those people going in and out every day, she can't help but feel sorry for the little ones. She has never asked the Jarl about their mother - it always seemed inappropriate - but it's clear they have grown up without her and for that, Eydis feels sorry for them.

So she merely chuckles. "And how exactly do you want me to prove it? I don't see no dragon here I could kill."

Dagny looks flustered for a moment before she huffs, high and mighty as usual. "I don't know. Kill something else."

Has the girl's gaze flashed over to one of the guards for a second? She decides rather not to think about that and simply shrugs instead. "I don't think that's a good idea. I could show you something else I can do with the Voice, though. If you'd like to see."

"I don't care."

The girl makes a little bit too much effort to look disinterested but still slides onto the bench beside her brother. Nelkir, on the other hand, hangs on the Dragonborn's lips. "I want to see", he exclaims and this time, she does laugh.

"Alright, then."

She doesn't need to think about how to Shout anymore, it comes so naturally as if she has never done anything else. She does not raise her voice and yet it rumbles through the hall, like thunder from a storm in the distance.

_"FEIM."_

As soon as the word falls from her lips, she feels the Thu'um running through every fiber of her being, becoming part of her body as her flesh is replaced with pure energy. Then the Shout fades away and leaves nothing but a prickling tingle on her skin.

Her eyes fall on the children and she laughs at their bewildered faces.

"See? I can do all kinds of things." She takes a deep breath, inwardly counts to one, two, three, then feels the strength of the Thu'um returning to her body, energy pulsating in her veins.

_"TIID."_

She can feel it, too, even though for her, it's not as strong as it must be for them – she can see it in their faces, amazement, wonder, maybe even a little fright. She realizes she must have looked almost the same way when she first tried this Shout, to float, to drift in time, to feel it tugging at your bones while everything around you freezes still…

When, slowly, everything begins to move normal again, the children gasp and stare at her. _"How did you do that?"_, Nelkir breathes, and Eydis smiles again.

"It's a Shout, it's like… a magic spell but only dragons and very few people can do it. This one was _Tiid Klo Ul._" Even though she has learned by now the difference between speaking and Shouting the words, it feels strange to say them out loud without the power of the Thu'um. "In the common tongue, it means 'time, sand, eternity'. It slows down the time – but only for those around me", she explains. Both children hang on every word she says now. "Once a dragon swung its tail at me and it almost cut me open with its spikes. If it weren't for the Shout, it would have been faster than me. And it stops everything else, too, when a dragon spits out a ball of fire, it looks like a little sun is hovering right in front of you…"

Eydis has never considered herself a particularly good storyteller; in the rare cases she's travelled with a band of mercenaries or accompanied a caravan across the land, she's always rather been the one sitting somewhere on the side, at the edge of a campfire's light, listening to other's stories and drunken songs instead of joining in. Now, however, as Nelkir listens to her with bated breath and eyes like saucers, and even his sister strains her ears and scoops closer, the words come easily; tales of wild beasts, ferocious dragons and their ancient undead priests. Not everything she tells has happened exactly this way, mostly because the truth does not seem suited for children, for these things are usually far less heroic and vertiginous than she paints them.

Yet it's a rare moment when she feels like she has truly left all her worries behind at the doorstep; the children's laughter and sparkling eyes make her forget the burden she carries and for once, she is nothing more than a simple adventurer again who went out into the world and brought home some stories.

* * *

She hardly feels the time passing. From time to time, someone enters the hall and leaves again without the three of them paying much attention, until Nelkir looks up, over Eydis' shoulder. "Father."

She spins around on her seat to find Balgruuf standing on the steps on the foot of the staircase leading up to the war room. He doesn't move, only looks at them with a contented smile on his lips, and she feels the heat creeping up her face as she wonders how long he has been standing there…

Then she remembers what she came here for and feels guilty for wasting so many hours when she has so little time left. "I need to talk to your father now", she says softly and they slip from the bench obediently, Dagny once again with a look of indifference, Nelkir not without making a face.

"Go downstairs and find Fianna", Balgruuf tells them when he has walked over to them. If anything, she thinks as they watch the children chasing each other to the kitchen and down the stairs, she needs to save the world for them.

The Jarl takes a seat beside her and his smile, and maybe the fact that he's so close to her now, makes her heart beat a little faster. It won't last long, though, when she tells him what she needs from him. When he asks her what she wants to talk about, she takes a deep breath.

"I need to trap a dragon."

When she tells him about the prophecy and explains what she has to do, he stares at her blankly, as if he can't decide whether she is making are joke or simply has gone mad. When she holds his gaze, jaw set, shoulders squared, the look on her face of deadly earnestness, he slowly seems to realize neither of those is the case.

"You are serious?"

She is, and she's desperate because she has no idea how to do this without his help. "I will work, Balgruuf, I know it will." _It has to. _"I don't even need to trap him for long, all I need is information. I wouldn't ask if I knew another way, trust me, but… I have no idea how else to do this."

"No."

Now it's her turn to stare. Maybe she misheard him. He cannot seriously turn her down and refuse to aid her when he knows what's at stake?

"What do you mean, _'no'_?"

"Eydis", he says calmly and she grits her teeth, barely keeps her temper in check; how _dare_ he talk to her like a child -

"I cannot have the threat of a dragon in my city when I have two armies at my doorstep at the same time", the Jarl explains, without ever raising his voice, "Ulfric and Tullius are both just waiting for me to make one mistake. I cannot risk weakening the city any more than it already is."

"So, you'd rather risk the end of the world?!", she fumes. What does the bloody civil war matter when they are facing a threat so much greater? How can he put Whiterun before the safety of the whole world?

"Eydis", he repeats and she considers smacking him, so he will finally stop talking to her like this -

"I didn't say I would not help you."

Her anger subsides as quickly as it came. The Jarl falls silent, staring grimly into the hearth fire. For a moment, the room is quiet except for her cracking

The fire paints flickering shadows on his angular, distinctive face. He looks older than when she last saw him, she thinks, and tired. The constant fight to keep both forces at arm's length, wears him out. They might have different tasks but she surely is not the only one responsible for many people's lives. Just because the threat she faces might be great doesn't mean the burden he carries in less heavy.

Her mouth goes dry when a sudden wave of fear washes over her. He's her bastion of calm in this mess, the one person she leaves all her sorrows and worries with, the one – maybe the only one she trusts. To see him like this - her heart aches at the thought of what aggrieves him… that she might lose him.

_'…he worries about being chased from Whiterun.'_

And what will become of her, then? She can't do this alone. She can't do this without him.

When she finally finds her voice again, she takes a deep breath. "So… where does that leave us? I have to find out where Alduin went before it's too late, but… I don't know if there is any other way than this."

"You don't have to find another way." When he turns his head to face her again, a crooked smile tugs on his lips, not as kind as she has come to know it. "If you can convince both sides of this war to agree to a truce until this is done - then I will help you trap the beast here in Dragonsreach. Even though I still think it's madness."

"A truce", she repeats, taken aback for a moment. Of course. It will give them enough time. But that either party will agree to even speak to the other seems unlikely. "How would I do that?"

"I can give you a message for Tullius", he grumbles and scratches his beard thoughtfully. "As for Ulfric… well, you'll have to find a way to convince him. He believes in the old legends much more than the Imperials do, so that might help you."

All color leaves her face, and the return in a heated blush at the thought of returning to Windhelm. The gods must truly have conspired against her.

_'You know you will be back soon, Eydis.'_

Gods damn him…

And she doesn't even have the decency not to look forward to it. How much easier things would, she ponders with a frown, if she had only one side to deal with. She is certain Ulfric will understand when she explains to him what's at stake. But what do the Imperials know about the old legends? Nothing. The thought of crawling back to them and beseeching them to comply makes her sick. She is Dragonborn,_ they_ should be begging for her help.

"There's another way", she says loudly before she can restrain herself.

"Another way?"

"You hate them, too", she blurts out, knowing full well that this will anger him, that she shouldn't even bring it up, and yet feeling she has stayed silent for too long. "You hate them just as much as he does. Why not join the Stormcloaks, with Whiterun behind them, it's only a matter of time before they can take Solitude and -"

"And?", he interrupts. There is no smile on his face now, and his eyes are hard, more than she has ever seen before. "And then what will happen? Do you expect me to allow someone like him become High King?"

Someone like him? What does that even mean? Sure, maybe the Jarl of Windhelm has his flaws, maybe he's not the hero his followers paint him to be but he'd be as good a High King as any. Certainly better than that little girl in Solitude. "You sound like he's some kind of monster."

"No", he admits, his voice no less hard than before. "That, he is not. But I know the man, Eyids, and I know he is not to be trusted. No matter how many emotive speeches about his cause he gives - Jarl Ulfric only fights for his own revenge."

So does she. It's why she's killed every Thalmor patrol she's come across. The more of them die, the better.

"I don't understand what's wrong with that", she insists. Now she sounds like a defiant child and she hates herself for it but if she only could make him _see..._ "His cause is right. You know that. Who cares what other reasons he has?"

"If he wins his war, he will rule - and he will rule, just as he fought, based on revenge. You know how his people live in Windhelm. Do you want that to happen to the rest of Skyrim?

There's a moment of strained silence. Eydis stares at him with wide open eyes, a heated answer on her tongue but it is held back by the thought of Rolff's drunken ramblings, of Aval's wary gaze when she traded with him, of the bruise on Luaffyn's cheek that the bard didn't want to talk about.

Of course, she knows - she wants to believe - these things aren't Ulfric's fault. Still, it's enough for her churning emotions to settle and for her anger to subside. Even if she wanted to, she doesn't have the energy to fight any longer. It was a mistake bringing it up at all.

"I'm sorry", she finally says ruefully and her gaze drops to her boots. "I shouldn't have said anything."

They both know it's an apology for voicing her anger, but not for the way she feels.

Balgruuf breathes a heavy sigh. "Let us not speak of this anymore. We have enough to deal with already. Let them fight their war."

He is right, of course. But the urging feeling in her chest to go out there and fight for something she truly believes in, not for some ancient prophecy that still seems to be part of someone else's life, not hers - it's never been stronger than now.

The silence between them that follows is not hostile, not even uncomfortable. It's not that she doesn't understand why he acts the way he does, and he has just told her he understand her as well. Things could - should - be simpler, it would make everything easier for both of them but there's no doubt in her mind that it would take more than Ulfric and the civil war to destroy their friendship.

"So", he mumbles after a while, "the World Eater has truly returned?"

She swallows and thinks of black scales, spikes sharp as blades, glowing red eyes. Everything else, the Empire, the war, suddenly seems very small.

"Yes."

"And you will defeat him."

She still swallows thickly. It's not a question - but to her, it still is. The prophecy states that she's the one who is _able_ to defeat Alduin. It doesn't say if she will be successful. The last time she fought him, even with Dragonrend, he escaped and she almost died.

"I have to try."

She hates how weak her voice sounds, just as fragile as she feels right now, but she doesn't want to show weakness, she can't, especially not in front of him… When he gently takes her hand in his, the warmth of his touch makes her shudder; she exhales slowly and dares to look up to him eventually. His eyes are kind and his smile is even warmer than his touch. All she wants to do in this moment is throw herself in his arms and cry until the dull pain in her chest goes away, instead she smiles back as he gently squeezes her hand.

"I know you will", he says quietly and then they sit like and comfortably share a moment of peace and silence, until the fire in the hearth has burned down to glowing embers and she carefully withdraws her hand from his to leave Dragonsreach once more.


	5. Chapter 5

_[A/N: A short chapter but I wanted to give you at least something. I'm going back to university and I'll be moving soon, so life continues to be busy and writing is unfortunately not one of my top priorities. I try to squeeze it in as much as I can. Thank you for your patience! I hope you enjoy this nonetheless! Maybe leave a little review to motivate me? :3 ]_

* * *

**In The Kingdom Of The Blind**

**Chapter 5**

* * *

The blizzard hits just before she reaches Windhelm.

Eydis finds shelter at the stables, peeks up to the sky from under the wooden rood, and wonders if this is a sign from the Nine that she shouldn't be here. Not that she has much of a choice. Better get it over with quickly. When the winds finally abate enough to cross the bridge safely, she leaves her horse in Ulundil's care, wraps herself tightly in her coat and pulls her hood deep down over her face. Snowflakes catch in her lashes and blind her vision every time she lifts her eyes to orientate herself; she blinks and wipes them away with a gloved hand. She's a lonely figure in the streets of the city, fighting against wind and snow and the cold, while everyone else has sought shelter in their warm homes or the inn. She makes a mental note to reward herself with some hot mead and a long night of sleep once this is done.

By the time she reaches the palace, she is coated in claggy lumps of snow that stick to the fur of her clothes. Some of it falls down her collar when she pushes the hood back, the icy sensation makes her shudder. The thrones room with its grey walls and dim lights is not the most welcoming place but it's still so much warmer than the outside that the heat prickles gently on her face. She begins to walk further into the room, pulling off her gloves on the way, loosening the cloak and running her fingers through her ruffled hair. Not that it does much to look more respectable… But she really has bigger problems than her looks right now.

When she hears his voice from the war room, her pace slows, almost involuntarily. She remembers every detail of their last encounter and still hasn't figured out if this memory is pleasant or only embarrassing. What she does know is that this feels like she's crawling back to him. She simultaneously hates him for making herself this way and herself for caring so much.

It doesn't matter. She has a job to do. A destiny to fulfill. That's why she's here. Nothing more. She has to get him to agree, she _will _get him to agree to this. If he refuses, she can always Shout him to pieces.

_'You know you will be back soon, Eydis.'_

She really hates him.

She does indeed find him and his general in the smaller room. When she enters and he looks up from the map he is studying, she swears she can see a triumphant smile flicker over his face. Not that it would last long, anyhow, not when he hears what she has to tell him. When she asks to speak to him in private, he dismisses the general and the man leaves, not without giving her a suspicious and most disapproving look.

She ignores him, focuses instead on keeping a straight face.

"So", the Jarl says slowly when they are finally alone, and casually lets the map roll shut. "You're back."

Smug bastard.

"Stating the obvious, _Mylord_", she retorts, trying to remember to stay calm and keep a level head. If she wants to do this right, she can't let him get under her skin. "I need to talk to you."

Just as she has expected, his face darkens when she explains what she needs from him.

"I have nothing to say to the Empire. Nothing that isn't the sharp end of my axe. I'm surprised you would ask me this. I was under the impression you feel the same way."

She grits her teeth and curses herself for not being able enough to hide her feelings better. But what does it matter when the threat is so much greater? The Empire is nothing more but an insect under Alduin's feet. "There are things at work in this world greater than the war", she tells him and puts as much firmness behind her voice as possible. "The World Eater has returned."

He stares at her unmoving while agonizing moments pass in silence and she counts the seconds in her head, _one, two. _Her hands grow sweaty and her mouth goes dry, and she would give a fortune to know what he is thinking right now. There certainly is nothing on his face to tell her if he at least believes her. But he knows the legends, he has studied with the Greybeards, he was _there_ when Alduin destroyed Helgen. He of all people in the world must understand what is at stake.

"I see", he finally mumbles and she sincerely hopes he doesn't notice her sigh of relief. "That… certainly changes things."

"I can defeat him", she says and wonders how she manages to sound so certain explaining her plan when in truth, she is anything but. "But for that, I need the help of the Jarl of Whiterun. And he will only help me if a truce is struck."

His lips curl to a smile full of disdain. "Yes, Balgruuf always was coward."

He doesn't even sound hateful, it's more a dry state of facts, and Eydis instinctively feels defensive of the man who is not only her Jarl and mentor but her friend as well. They might not agree on anything, especially when it comes to the war but she will not stand quiet when he is being insulted.

_'…he worries about being chased from Whiterun.' _

Maybe they will never come to terms in the matters of the civil war but she does understand why he needs this truce. Balgruuf is many things but he is not a coward. What he is, is pragmatic and cautious and, above all, worried about his people. He might be able to fight off the Empire's or the Stormcloaks' forces - whose army it would be doesn't matter much at this point. But he can't do so when has to worry about the city being burned down to the ground. He can't fight on two fronts.

"He fears his city will be ransacked and his people slaughtered", she counters sharply. "If he's a coward to you for that – well, then maybe being a coward is not so bad after all."

The Jarl of Windhelm listens to her with the same calm, indifferent expression on his face. The smile is completely gone now, replaced by sobriety and a reflectiveness she has not quite expected from him. "Tullius has agreed to this?"

"He has." With Balgruuf's letter, it has been surprisingly easy. She's gotten the impression General Tullius welcomes a pause for breath for his army and doesn't care too much about the reason for her proposal if this is what he gets. She's also seen the fear in the eyes of Legate Rikke, and if the woman has any influence at all on her superior, she would have made him understand the severity of the situation anyhow.

Luckily, all this gives her an advantage now. If an Imperial seemingly understands the severity of the situation, how can one who wishes to be High King in the north dismiss it?

If Ulfric sees it this way as well or if he truly understands the danger they are facing, she might never now, and doesn't particularly care when he finally gives a curt nod, just when the silence starts to feel embarrassing. "Very well", he says.

"So you will come?"

"I will come." There is an underlying tone in his voice now, it reminds her of a beast that has finally cornered its prey and only waits to for the right moment to move for the kill. Her suspicions are confirmed when he continues: "However, I have one condition."

Of course he has, the rotten bastard. It would have been too easy. "What is it?"

"Once all this is over and you have defeated Alduin – you will come back here and you will fight for me. And we will win this war together." When she doesn't answer, he smiles softly. Somehow he has crossed the distance between them and she only realizes it when he suddenly stands right in front of her. She is not exactly small in height but he still towers over her, looking down on her with that bloody smile of his.

When he raises a hand to slide a strand of red hair behind her ear, callous fingers brushing over her cheek, his face dangerously close to hers, she flinches at first before she holds still, despite her instincts telling her to fight or flee. The gesture, his whole posture, is far too intimate - any other man would have lost a hand by now. She really should teach him a lesson, teach him his place; she is Dovahkiin, born with the soul of a dragon, she is not meant to be ruled by men, be it kings or Jarls, and she will certainly not be _blackmailed_ into doing something she does not want to do.

Maybe that's where the problem lies, because here she stands, trying to hide the way she shivers under his touch, under his _words_, and lets him continue. "That is what you truly want, isn't it? That is why you came here last time."

_'You know you will be back soon, Eydis.'_

Gods damn him. Gods damn them all.

"Fine." With a firm grip, she catches his wrist, harshly pulls his hand from her cheek. "If that's your condition, I hardly have a choice, do I?"

_Of course you do, _his smile says. And he's right. There's always a choice.

She'd rather bite off her tongue then admit to him he's only giving her what she wants anyway.

"Then swear to me", he almost purrs and she debates on hitting him after all. Instead, she releases his hand as if she burned herself, and takes a step back, bringing safe distance between them. It doesn't help much, though… not when the moment of silence stretches painfully long, not when he doesn't take his eyes off her, doesn't even _blink. _She feels the heat creeping up her neck and swallows, hard. What is she even doing? This is ridiculous.

"You have my word", somehow she manages to keep her voice hard and cold as steel, even though her throat feels tight and her mouth is dry, "As Talos is my witness, when all of this is over, I will fight for you."

"With me", he corrects her, and she grits her teeth because hitting becomes even more tempting option. Or she could Shout at him, set him on fire, just a little bit… Considering he still has to sign that damned treaty, it's probably not a good idea.

"_With_ you", she spits and finally turns around to leave without waiting for his goodbye - the Dragonborn will not have herself be dismissed… "I expect you in a week, then", she calls over her shoulder as she strolls to the door, glad to find her legs are still working properly, despite the wobbly feeling in her knees. "Don't be late."

Having the last word is a small victory. She can almost feel his smile on her back, it makes her skin tingle and the hair in her neck stand on end.

The sharp wind on her hot face is a relief, wakes her up and clears her thoughts. As she slowly walks down to the city, she can't decide if she feels relieved that now she will have an excuse to come back and fight the Empire - or if it feels more like a trap she just stepped into with her eyes open. Either way, there's no turning back now. And for now, she has more important things to do.

It's only after she has busied herself with restocking her supplies and regaining her strength over a warm meal, when she lies in one of the inn's small beds, that she begins to realize what her oath means for the few people she truly trusts.

Balgruuf is not going to like this. The sting of guilt is painful but even worse is the realization of what it will for them. If she joins the rebellion and he remains loyal to the Empire – then what? She can't fight him. She is his Thane but more importantly, he is her _friend_. Whiterun is the closest to a home she's had in years. She can't just throw all that away. There must be another way…

With a groan, she buries her face in the pillow. Why does it always feel like the Gods are all conspiring against her?

But she doesn't have to tell him right now, does she? He said it himself, they have greater problems, and if she loses and the world turns into a living hell, neither will she get the chance to tell him nor will it be important any longer.

No, that's not the right way to think, either.

With another groan, Eydis coils herself up under the furs and closes her eyes, praying for sleep to come swiftly so at least for a merciful while, she will not have to think about anything anymore.


End file.
